I'm A Riot?
by BeneathTheWaves
Summary: Sean Smith does not get on with everyone, and he won't be used as a punching bag. Out of options, His mum sends him to a boarding school for 'disruptive youths', where he finally discovers people he gets on really well with, especially Ian. My first story
1. 1  I'm A Riot?

"Sean," my mother addressed me with such a tone I searched my recent memory for any misdeeds. "Sean, I've kept you out so far because I know you're a sweet boy. You wouldn't get involved in these things if you had a choice." I looked my mother; she had hit the nail on the head with that one. Unfortunately, what came out of her mouth next destroyed any illusion of sympathy, "but I'm starting to think they're right about this place, so I'm sending you to Pasteur's."

"What?" I shouted with the practiced dramatics my age demanded. "I'm non-conformist and have girly hair, so you're sending me to a juvie half-house. Yeah, I get beaten up by normal kids, so you've giving me to the thugs to finish the job." I wasn't so much shouting now as pleading and my voice had taken on a high-pitched whiny quality. I tried furiously to blink away the mutinous tears now filling my eyes, I begged: "why mum?"

"Honey, you know I love you, right?"

I shook my head, treasuring the slapped look across her face. I'd hate myself later, but right now it felt like a tiny little victory.

"It's not like that, Sean; it's for intelligent but 'socially disruptive' youths. It's for characters, not fight starters. I'm not making you anyone's punching bag."

"Is that what the leaflet said?" I snarled, wiping my eyes with the heel of my hand while she sighed dejectedly into her Earl Grey. When she looked up, I turned away, embarrassed to show weakness like this.

"You can argue all you like, you're still going... Sean, honey, have you really got that much to lose?" She was right and that hurt more than her giving up on me. "It's not my choice, remember that," she whispered, kissing my forehead and leaving the room with an undeniable finality.

I stormed up the stairs to my room, slamming the door, and just sat on my bed staring blankly at the walls. A poster of the joker grinned sadistically at me. I walked up to it and swung a punch.

The stinging feeling burst through my knuckles, red trailing from the new grazes where I'd mashed my fist into the doorframe and giving me something to really cry about. I kicked out, stubbing my toes against the bed.

No longer quite so desperate to vent after my little tantrum, I sunk my head into my pillow and convulsed with the hurt I didn't want the world to see. I plugged in earphones and listened to something angry.

After an immeasurable amount of time, I felt vibration resonating through my mattress and fumbled for my phone. Bleary-eyed, I welcomed the little green robot in the absence of a caller photo. I answered with a: "Shit, Jessica I-"

"Sh'up. Listen, I'm in my pyjamas, watching Jeremy Kyle tell chavs to 'put something on the end of it' all by myself. Bloody inexcusable. Want to waste the best years of our lives and get fat together?" She knows when I need to talk to someone, that girl; something about female telepathy.

"Actually, can you come here?"

My voice croaked and I know that's the reason for what she said next: "Of course, let me just... I'll be right there."

Half an hour found us snuggled under my duvet, on the sofa with a jar of Nutella between us and two spoons, Kerrang! on in the background.

She wrapped both of her arms around one of mine and put her head on my shoulder before she spoke: "I hate to be the voice of reason-"

"-Yeah, she's a bitch, been shagging logic behind sense's back."

She laughed slightly, but it was lost in the back of her throat. "I don't think this will be as bad as you think it will, Sean. You should have more faith in your mum...

"Besides, here isn't an option, the have you down as a fight starter; nothing you say will make them believe otherwise. Those Neanderthals hate that you don't fit into their nice little mould. They also hate that the kid they think they're above can pull his weight in a scrap, and whilst I think you look sexy with a black eye,-"

"Thanks"

"Don't mention it... I'm scared for you." A tear escaped her eye and I brushed it away.

"Don't cry!" I hugged on to her petite frame "I'll let you give me a make-over."

She perked up immediately and retrieved an eyeliner pencil from her bag, cheeky bugger. Who cares, I look hot in guyliner.

Jessica slept over that night. We shared the double bed I was bought about the time I overtook my mum in height. Although to say I slept would be an overstatement.

I just watched her heavy breathing, the rise and fall of her back. Much to both of our parents dismay, Jessica is probably closer to me than her own sister, they keep hinting in that subtle way adults have towards teenagers that we would make a cute couple. Jessica is pretty, but really, I have seen that girl vomit into a potted plant. That imagery appears whenever I start to think they might be right.

I'm not really that vain, I feel highly protective of Jessica. I know she feels something similar towards me, though; she's come to my defence on many an occasion. And that's not as violent as it sounds.

Louise Sikes had an ever-present greasy, slightly wonky pony tail, slight BO and a tendency to quote SpongeBob. The general student population had a name for her: Lou roll. Surprisingly, she was not what you would call popular. Unfortunately, she also had her eyes set on me.

She was annoying, somewhat slow, but not unkind enough to feel the full force of my cynicism. Apparently this qualifies as a basis for friendship. Whenever we had to get into groups, Louise was somehow there. I was too kind to turn the girl away, and plus, people weren't exactly beating down the door to be friends with me, so I entertained her for a while.

When she started laughing too long for it to be natural at the tiniest of comments, I noticed something, but not what. A snatched conversation with Jessica at break cleared this up. "She like totes fancies you babes," she drawled as we watched Louise queue.

"I know right, I'm like a well fit." I played along.

"No, I'm serious. She goes all hyena on your arse whenever you say something funny," she paused, scrunching her face up "I'm making that sound like it happens a lot more frequently than it does."

"For realzies? And I'm bloody hilarious, bitch!"

"Yeah, you interested?" she raised one eyebrow, an enviable quality.

"Erm, no, it's more of my good deed to the universe. If you're right, this could get brutal. Shit, cut her loose?"

"It's for her own good, Sean."

Louise was walking back towards us now, as I turned to Jessica with a grave face. "Got anyth-?" I was cut off by Jessica's mouth and a tiny bit of her tongue where my words should have been. I opened my eyes wide at her audacity, before cottoning on and shutting them, trying to imagine that I was in fact kissing somebody else.

I heard the squeaking of Clark's shoes going at quite a pace as Jessica pulled away and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. She murmured something about the taste of my gum before a more definite: "The look on your face, ha, God, I feel attractive right now. " Her expression softened"...And mean. Never speak of this again?"

I nodded vigorously in agreement. "Mint?" I held out the tiny tin.

"Please."

Jessica stirred slightly next to me at the sound of somebody coming up the stairs.

My mum knocked on my bedroom door at ridiculous hour that next morning before opening it. She always makes sure to tread heavily on her way up the stairs as well; anyone would think she was scared of walking in on me doing something she'd rather not see. Really, at half nine in the morning?

She pushed the door open slowly, "oh, hello Jess, I didn't know you were still here," she chastised me. Jessica hates being called Jess, she says that it's to pretty, too obvious. I went through a stage of calling her Icky, it didn't last long.

"You didn't tell me you had something much more important lined up for today," I replied in an even more bitter tone. Does she expect me to just forgive her overnight?

"Sean, I realise that you're..."

"Pissed off." She tutted as my language.

"With me, but that tone isn't appreciated." She countered and left.

Jessica gave me _the_ look. "You hurt her feelings." I nodded, well aware that she knew I was such a terrible son that I had intended to.

"If she really loves me, she'll play the bad guy."

Mum had put a plastic pocket down with home-printed sheets inside. I read them, searching for a get out clause. On the front in severe handwriting was the date of my first day. I start after half term, a fortnight from today.

Two weeks until D-day. I shuddered at the thought.


	2. 2  I Gotta Get This Off My Chest

The car ride to Pontypridd, a town about a half an hour outside of Cardiff was uneventful. I stared sullenly at the slowly rising sun, daring it to just give up so that the sky would match my mood: dark. We made it in twenty-something minutes, probably due to me wishing for at least a detour due to road-works to lengthen the time before I had to admit I went to a school for troublemakers. Bloody Murphy's Law works like that. If my mother was more awake, she probably would have talked my ear off to try and cheer me up. As it happens, she just settled for a hand on my knee at traffic lights, squeezing it slightly in a comforting gesture.

As we pulled into the gravel car park, she turned to me, brushed my fringe from my eyes and kissed my forehead, "I love you, even if you don't love me right now, remember that, Sean, I'm not trying to punish you."

"I know, I love you too mum." I managed a smile that wasn't real and pulled my fringe back across my right eye. I wasn't fooling anybody. What is it with parents and brushing fringes? It's fricking annoying, is what it is.

We exited the car slowly, I was dragging the time out and my mother was indulging me. It was quite kind of her, in her own, patronising way, I thought. Our game of Chicken didn't last long, though, as my mum removed the large suitcase from the grey Golf's boot. She handed it over with a stern look and a raise of her thin eyebrows.

I straightened my coat collar and scarf against the wind that hit me like a tonne of bricks as I exited the car, before walking forward and grabbing the handle off of her. With an indignant sigh I strode across the ugly gravel in my battered converse.

The wheels sunk in, but I refused to be troubled by such petty inconveniences as such and strode on regardless. Warm air caresses my face as I peer through the double doors into reception. I pretty young receptionist looks up and smiles genuinely. "Hi, I'm Leesa. You must be Sean?" She asked hesitantly.

"Yeah."

My mum enters the building a couple of seconds after me. "Yes, not yeah," my mum corrects.

Leesa catches my eye and rolls hers. I decide to like her. "Mrs. Smith, could you sign this to say we have duty of care," she waves a printed sheet toward mum, "and Sean, here's a timetable and map." I take them, grateful for a distraction from the awkwardness of public goodbyes.

"Okay, thanks," my mother addresses Leesa, "you have my mobile numbers, and everything. I'm sorry but I have to dash to get the other one to school. Goodbye," She said, this time to me, holding out her arms.

"Bye mum."

Leesa giggled slightly, "go on and give your mum a hug. I promise I won't tell."

And I believed her. "Love you," I whispered to the space above mum's boring bob.

Leesa informed me that the head teacher, her mum was away visiting another school, so her brother would give me an informal tour. And probably spare me a lot of fascinating facts. I laughed at that. Nobody like your family to stab you in the back, just ask Jay, the bastard wished me luck at 'pikey school' before I left.

A young man entered during what was fast becoming just friendly chit-chat. He had scruffy black hair sprayed haphazardly in a highly time-consuming manner of bed head. And Vans poking from the bottom of a suit slightly too well fitting to be for work. Leesa grinned at him, "this is my big brother, Ian. Sean is our latest – what's the phrase?" She looked blankly at me.

"Pikey, courtesy of my brother's way with words." He was trying not to laugh.

God, how cocky doI sound? I've been here twenty minutes and I already have banter with the secretary and pseudo head master.

"Hi I'm Ian-"

"-Mr Watkins, today." Leesa corrected.

"But that sounds so old!" He whined, holding out his hand I shook it.

"Ian" he asserted with the same strong Welsh accent as me, a whole syllable longer than how Jessica would. It was kind of endearing.

"Don't worry; I'm sure you're far too cool to be a teacher." I muttered as I followed him out of the reception.

"I'm just trying to get a bit of cash. I'm on my gap year. I want to be a graphic designer. Or a rock star...I wonder which is more likely."

"You seem confident enough to make it. You could even be a front man."

"Really? No, drumming's where my heart is."

He gave me a tour of the site, making up some ridiculous lie about each room.

Until we hit music. He told me the pet names he'd assigned each instrument. I would have to get him to teach me to play better, and I felt like I could. There was a three year age gap, but I could tell by the way he spoke to me that he thought nothing of it. He was cynical and scathing in a way that didn't mask that he was actually a really nice guy underneath it all.

That's pretty much where this pitiable imitation of a tour stopped, here in the music room with me fiddling with a cherry-red Strat.

"I went here, you know..." he whispered, a sound I barely heard, as engrossed as I was in the instrument.

"Huh?"

"I was the first student. I used to stay around with the older kids, showed me things they shouldn't have, in excess. I'm straight edge now, before I even knew the word for it; it just bored me, y'know?

"Pretending like it was 'us and them' I probably alienated myself far more than anybody my own age actually did. My mum took me out of school, home-schooled me, and then those who'd led me astray. She didn't give up even though I gave her more than enough reason to." Ian's eyes were somewhere to my right, the admiration in his voice and on his face was tangible.

"I should really start seeing things like you." I smiled. "I guess I'm overly defensive. There are two secondary schools in Merthyr. Mine - I guess my old one, now – and the one where my friends go. Mine was the rougher school. I think they would have understood more if I was, like gay or something. Not that gender should be a defining factor when it comes to anything. They're happier with labels aren't they?"

Ian nodded. "Look at us sad-sacks; sympathy never got anything done, as my Gran says."

I got up, carefully placing the guitar back on its wall mount and wiping the strings with the sleeve of my hoodie. Laughing, Ian handed me a yellow duster and a tube of fast-fret.

"I don't suppose you're this friendly with all the students?" I stated but it came out as a question.

"Well some of them are complete pricks..." he tried to keep a straight face "...but I knew I'd like you when I saw your T-shirt. I looked down to see Limp Bizkit written across my chest in hot pink. I laughed to myself.

He took me to my class and boring introductions began. Just as I'm starting to think that Ian is a sign to the contrary of my preconceptions, I am sat next to a boy named Cieran Clarke. With a 'c'. Alliteration was always a sign of a weak mind.

A/N: Sorry to the (probably) one person who is reading this that it's been what, like, two months or more? Mocks are a bitch. I'd love a review if you don't mind.


	3. 3  Round and Round and Round We Go

"Hi class, this is Sean," the teacher introduced me.

They all turned to face me, and I realised how small the group was. There were about nine other people of my age swivelling their necks to me. It was kind of funny, like being in a room full of owls. I kept that thought to myself and raised a hand in a lazy greeting.

Sean Smith and Cieran Clarke, we sound like a fucking comic book. And not a good one, either.

"Okay, we're going to do a little get-to-know-each-other activity," announced the teacher. Shit, was she still talking? "I want you all to say your names and an _interesting_ fact about yourself." I looked at her face to see her reaction to whatever benign drivel came out of their mouths. Me, cynical?

"I'm Alice," started a girl somewhere to my left, "and I am possibly the only human being who has never attempted to burp the alphabet." I moved my attention from the teacher's eye roll to Alice's face. She was looking at me, directly in the eye and I afforded her a smirk. She was okay.

Unfortunately this was less than a trend. The next girl, Katie, had been going to ballet since she was four. Give the girl a fucking trophy.

Cieran just had to tell us the exact number of hours he took to get to Prestige in the latest Call Of Duty title. "I said interesting, Cieran," deadpanned the teacher. If she hadn't turned around she would have seen the raised middle finger in her direction.

It went downhill from there, I'm afraid. Until the last boy, Jack, who walked to the front of the room and just lifted up his casual white shirt to show two extra nipples. "Tell." reiterated the teacher, to which he just gave a shrug and winked at the dumbfounded faces staring his way.

Then it was my turn. Determined not to be outdone, I announced: "I'm Sean. Although I look like what can only be described as 'homosexual', I really do love Slayer." Jack high fived me from across the table as I sat down.

"Okay... As most of you know, I'm your teacher for English, and, if you're taking it, English Literature. I've got a worksheet on Lennie's character in Of Mice And Men for everyone to complete whilst I have a little chat with Sean about the course."

After trying to reassure me that I hadn't missed anything vital in the half term I hadn't had, Mrs. Carter gave me a sheet that was supposed to help her 'gauge my confidence in the subject'.

It was just how about how punctuation affects meaning. I corrected all of the sentences they supplied and, at the bottom where it instructed I supply an example of my own, wrote: 'Grammar is important. It's the difference between "helping your uncle, jack, off a horse" and "helping your uncle jack off a horse".'

I handed it into the teacher and instead of the disapproving sigh I had come to expect, she snickered. Actually snickered, then she pinned it on the wall.

"Well done, Sean. Contrary to popular belief, teachers, and therefore examiners, do actually have a sense of humour." And then louder, "Okay, pack away, next lesson we'll have a new seating plan. I do take bribes. Cash only, people."

At that Jack rushed to the front, "can I sit next to Alice?"

"And Sean" added the aforementioned girl.

"Maybe," said Mrs. Carter, with the edges of a smile playing on her thin lips.

I pretended not to hear them, but let my own smile show as Alice pulled my hood over my head and ran out of the room with Jack trailing her.

"You didn't think you'd fit in this well, did you?" Inquired Mrs. Carter, making me jump. "We know when our effort is wasted, Sean. You'll find no lost causes here."

I just nodded nervously in reply and left the room, where Ian was waiting to show me to my next lesson. Like a butler, only cool.

Alice and Jack were talking animatedly to him, I caught Jack's English voice saying "...and then I flashed them." before Ian's "I'm sure she loved it," then more loudly "didn't you, Sue."

A rather flustered Mrs. Carter was locking up as she turned to face the three actual students and the honorary student stood with them. "I've seen better," she mumbled.

"Sure you have" Ian replied and winked at her. The poor woman blushed and rushed off, much to all of our delight.

"That was cruel," Alice chided, worry on her pretty features.

"She knows I'm joking," Ian reassured her, also easing some of my wondering as to what kind of a place I'd got myself into. "Alright, twats, get to class."

Ian steered his fans (myself included) to a much too large, yet seemingly unused science lab.

Everybody was sat down already when we entered the room.

"Here come the stragglers...flirting were we?" asked a balding middle aged man whose stance told us he was long tired of teaching.

His question had been directed at Alice, but Jack was the one to say "yes" at the same time that Ian gave an opposing answer.

It was obvious when the fat teacher heard the pseudo-headmaster's voice that he hadn't noticed the arrival of any staff. It was also obvious that he had seen the slap that Jack gave Ian on his butt.

Flabbergasted, he tried to redeem himself by booming: "That behaviour is not appropriate, Mr. Flint!" toward Jack, who seemed to be finding all of this highly amusing.

"Neither was your earlier comment, Simon. I am perfectly capable of talking to Jack myself, thank you very much. Would you like me to cover this lesson for you while you cool down?" Ian retorted calmly, as the still nameless teacher was visibly sweating.

I watched, as in reply to this calm offer, the science teacher stormed out.

I guess that was that then.

"Good morning, avid learners," Ian addressed the class, "I am," he sighed "Mr. Watkins. I will be taking this lesson as Mr. Jones obviously has rather a lot on his plate –as in the colloquialism, no comment on his weight – so please excuse him. " That lesson actually went pretty seamlessly after that, Ian still knew most of his Biology, so could explain our enzymes unit pretty well with the aid of the Smart board and a small practical.

It was break time after that, and I stayed and chatted with Alice while Jack got a talking to about not giving teachers heart attacks with his fictitious displays of affection.

We went to the cafeteria and Alice introduced me to a shy blue-haired girl who was Jack's girlfriend. Her name was Elise, she smelled like Love Hearts.

The two hours of lessons after break were uneventful (in either a good or bad way) which gave me lunch to see my room. I got it to myself, due to late coming, so I threw my stuff at the wardrobe and chest of drawers.

I replied to Jay's text, ignored my mum's and phoned Jessica.

She cut straight to the chase, asking enthusiastically: "Any hot guys?"

I told her that I was under qualified to answer that question, but Jessica gave her famous 'everybody can appreciate beauty' speech. I told her about Alice's cute smile and Elise's matching eyes and hair and Jack's jaw line. Then we came to the headmistress's son.

At this precise moment in time, he would tell me later, Ian Watkins was stood outside the door to my dorm, about to knock. If I had know that while I was describing him over the phone, maybe I would have held back on some of the details, but then again, he stayed to listen. Maybe he found that level of hero worship endearing, rather than irritating?

As I said goodbyes to Jessica, he made his presence known. I answered the knocking with my mobile to my ear, big mistake. Ian instantly snatched it.

"Hi, who's this, Sean's girlfriend?" he asks, using his advantageous position in the doorway to block my attempts at reclaiming the phone. Jessica would answer something along the lines of 'he wishes' to that. Next thing I know, he's reciting his own number, (who the hell learns their mobile number?) and telling her that he wants to know every little way to drive me crazy. Jessica agrees, I assume and they part with Ian telling her: "we must go; it's Seany's lunch time".

"Mr. Watkins, I hate you right now."

"I know," he sings and motions for me to follow him to the kitchens.


	4. 4 It's Just Fine By Me

It's been a week at Pasteur's and I can honestly say I haven't hated it. Even the science teacher who stormed out on my first day wasn't that bad, once I got over the jibes at my hair. His daughter had been in and out of hospital a lot recently and he was stressing out, he explained the next lesson when he apologised to the class. This was a new one for me: I'd never had teachers admit they were wrong before. After this, Jack even emphasised that he wasn't trying to start anything. I was blown away by the level of maturity.

Of course my first weekend threatened to ruin that.

"SeanSeanSeanSean!" Called a voice outside my bedroom door. Jack.

"Who?" I shouted back, mostly to piss him off, but also because I had only just come back from the shower.

"You, you fat prick!" He called back, opening the door to me in only my pants. He found this hilarious. I didn't appreciate the joke, especially when I turned round to get a hoodie and he said: "I've seen worse" in reference to my arse.

A wakeup call from your classmates is different to your mum. There are no pleasantries, hell, the last time mum told me to wake up Jay I just put my armpit over his face. And we have the same DNA, so a little exposure isn't so bad, I suppose.

I made Jack sit with his hands over his eyes while I finished dressing, barely bothering to be annoyed by him singing "we don't have to take our clothes off to have a good time" repeatedly. Because he didn't know the rest of the song or it was even more annoying, I don't know.

When I was wearing skinny jeans, a band shirt, hoodie and a desert scarf, I let him drag me to breakfast. As we were queuing, Ian spotted me and asked me how my week had gone.

Before I could reply, Jack volunteered "great, he's wearing purple pants, aren't you Seany".

Ian went red, actually red. We must have matched. "How does that girlfriend put up with you Jack?" he asked. I t was rhetorical of course, and he stopped Jack from what was probably a grotesque answer with one commanding finger. Jack skipped off with his breakfast, literally. "That boy," Ian sighed, "so really, how are you finding the school?" I nodded and gave a general yes. "Honestly."

"...I want to hate it. I want to hate you. I want to feel like I'm being punished." I said in a small voice.

"But you don't, right?" he confirmed. I shook my head. "That's how a lot of our students feel, I think. They want the constant reprimands, to be boxed in. Once you stop seeing yourself as a failure, it gets better," he looked me directly in the eyes, grabbing my hand across the table, "I Promise."

I nodded weakly, biting my lip. "I don't deserve this."

"You're worth more than you realise," he said kindly. I blushed and looked down at our intertwined hands.

"Why are you so kind to me?" I asked, with genuine curiosity.

"Because I like you," he said as if it were really that simple. I raised my eyebrows, signalling him to elaborate. "I'm not like this with everybody. You're a good kid; you don't deserve what you got. I feel for you. I know how it feels to be alienated and I think you got that a lot, probably because you're such a prick... Plus you're cute."

I blushed harder, trying to not let my mind consider what he meant by that last bit."What about Jack?" I asked, the jokes between them were verging on inappropriate, even from the perspective of a teenage boy.

He laughed "He's my cousin. That's probably why he gets away with so much and being so god damn cocky all the time. He should have been ugly, that kid. He has the personality for winning people over."

"I don't know..." I trailed off.

He caught the gist laughing at the implication. "I thought he had a manly chin?"

His question had of course been rhetorical, but as we finished eating breakfast quietly, my mind was whirring. Yes I had said something to that effect. On the phone. To Jessica. Alone. How much had she said to Ian when they briefly talked on my phone? Please nothing incriminating, I hoped. Still, I made a mental note to call her and demand what the fuck she did actually say.

There ain't no rest for the wicked, though and I must be evil. I was brushing my teeth having escaped the slight tension (at least on my side if not mutual) of the dining hall. I couldn't even accomplish this before Jack was back at my door, this time with Alice and Elise.

"We're going into Ponty' town," the latter told me, "there's some people you need to meet." I smiled at her, reflecting on Ian's words, she really was a saint putting up with Jack all the time.

We left then, after signing out, the school surprising me yet again with the freedom we had. It was a fair walk into the town centre, but we chatted mindlessly. It was freezing, even for Wales. Luckily the huddled arrangement of linked arms provided some shelter from the elements. Jack moaned the entire way there about the weather.

"Oh shut up, England can't be much better," Alice moaned, interrupting his rant with a sudden burst of patriotism.

Thankfully it did ease up after that. We walked up to a grassy area where two boys were sat on a bench, close together. Alice introduced me to the small boy with ridiculous hedgehog hair, although he did have something cute about him. He was standing partially behind his taller friend, who had scruffy hair, sticking out in every direction apart from his straightened fringe. He seemed the leader of the two, like a big brother although they obviously weren't related. He was wearing an Incubus shirt. He smiled crookedly, "Josh." He said patting me on the back like this wasn't out first meeting. "And Maximillion"

The hedgehog stepped out more, objecting to the nickname. "Max," he asserts with a surprisingly gravelly voice for his childish face, "hell yeah." Josh shakes his head. I decide not to ask, it's probably some in joke I won't get anyway. We sort of awkwardly bash fists, unsure completely of the social protocol.

Everyone else had sat down on the bench watching me. Elise and Jack snuggled together, Alice and Josh then Max sits down next to him and it's full. "Bloody great," I complain, felling a little like a third wheel.

Josh just sighs, pulling me down on his lap and whispers "stop being so awkward." After that I did, because if the guy I've only just met has already noticed, then it must be bad. I turned side on and gave him a grin. I hit it off with Josh straight away after that. We comfortably talked about everything and nothing. My thoughts were completely off a certain painfully trendy nineteen year old who may or may not think I'm cute.

It got to about lunch time before we left the park, we'd moved from the bench to a tree, watching spoilt children demand to be pushed on the swings. Screams of "Mummy" drifted over every once in a while.

Jessica rings me that evening as I'm lying on my narrow bunk, feet pushed against the bars on the underside of empty top bed. The early setting sunlight is pouring through the window, illuminating the swirling dust. I run my arm through it, watching mindlessly. She says that she's missing me and school sucks. I give noises of sympathy in the right places, not wanting to interrupt, but genuine enough. I feel guilty, I tell her, leaving her behind and not hating it here. She says that Ian's right and I shouldn't beat myself up. This brings me to him knowing what I think about everybody. She laughs, promising she said nothing and reassuring me that he would have lost interest in me already if anything he did hear about himself was off-putting. She's right, I realise with a sigh of relief. She says that Jay is pretending not to miss me, but my mum told her he's taken to doing his homework sat on my bed. I smile at that and then she tells me to phone my mum.

I do, after we've hung up, moving position and hearing my joints click. "Mum," I start when she lets me get more than a few words in edgeways, "I don't hate you."

"I know, sweetie... But thank you for saying that." She praises warmly. I blink against the building fluid in my eyes.

Sniff "I miss you."

"I miss you too! It's always hard being away from my baby, but this is good for you."

I let her patronise me in that motherly way. I take it like teenage boys do only very rarely. And then I spill my guts to her, tears falling over now. I hadn't had time to really think about it, or hadn't let myself, butI miss home. She promises I can come home next Sunday.

I feel low after talking to my mum. I knock on Alice's room and she lets me in with a smile. We don't share many words; just lay side by side, listening to some internet radio station in the background.

I'm well looked after.


	5. 5 You've Got The Wrong War

As soon as my last lesson is finished on Friday, I load up my bag with washing. There are machines here and I'm free to use them any time but my skin is sensitive to most washing powders and I don't know the brand we use at home, so I avoid the potential for a rash. And I'm lazy. And I don't know how to wash them. Why can't you just throw the stuff in and it gets clean, what's the point in all the buttons?

Saturday we went into town again, the same people are there, as well as a boy in my maths class and we all joke around. Gavin is his name. He has ridiculously blue eyes, bluer than Josh's. He should have been a girl really, Alice tells me, he's too pretty. She flirts with him a little but I can't tell if she's serious or they're just closer than I realise, kind of like me and Jessica.

My day is filled with banter and nothing major happens and before I know it it's Sunday morning and my mum's picking me up like she promised when I practically cried to her on the phone.

"Thank you, young man," my mum says, embarrassing me with her outdated and overly formal social graces.

"Mum," I wine, dragging out the 'u'. She can hear me from next to the car, as Ian turns and laughs at me. I'm glad my obvious discomfort amuses him, prick. He turns to wave to me, release forms or whatever they're called – probably something less prison-y - in hand. I sigh, walking over to grab them and hurry my mother along. I nod towards the note and raise an eyebrow since mum's rambling on about something else now. Ian hands them over and I rush inside.

Leesa's sat behind the desk, smiling. "Hi Sean, not having much luck shifting them are you? It's a shame, you were being so subtle." I laugh and decide to rival their chit chat with the other Watkins sibling.

"Anyone would think you're being sarcastic there."

She flicks her dark hair from her face, "He's quite the gossip, that brother of mine. He needs to get out more, have a relationship, something..." She sighs heavily, "he really does like you though, I wouldn't be surprised if he starts some whole mentor thing there."

"Maybe..." I think he has, although that sounds formal.

"You're making friends your own age too though, I see. Jack and the girls, and a little birdie tells me Josh and that Max kid."

I turn to her fully, "Are you sure Ian's the gossip?"

She mock gasps, "So you don't want to know about the kittens then?"

I interrogate thoroughly after that. Usually the furthest away of the PE storage cupboards is left open; it's the one that staff always forget to lock. Apparently Leesa isn't the only one who knows this. The school is, being not amongst the largest, in a residential area. That's where Ian and Leesa share a flat, and their neighbour's overly friendly cat sometimes follows them to the school. She gave birth last night, away from the noise of her home. The PE shed has five tiny kittens hidden between the stacks of equipment. I make a mental note to visit them soon.

My mum comes in just after Leesa finishes gushing about the kittens. She tries to hurry me along to which Leesa and I share a look that can only be described as conspiracy.

Mum unlocks the car and I open my door before she can walk round. I in and the first thing I notice is the smell of gum. I smile a little at that then I swear loudly because I see myself in the mirror in the sun visor thing and Jay is there, leaning forward in the middle of the back bench.

"None of that language, please Sean," mum reprimands, getting behind the wheel. She always manages to time everything to make me look bad. She either has terrible timing or brilliant. Possibly both.

I shrug sheepishly, apologising. I don't want to admit that I didn't notice Jay due to staring intently at somebody else. Somebody wearing casual clothing now, dark denim skinny jeans and a T-shirt that shows off half sleeve tattoos. He must be freezing, probably only came out to get papers signed. Somebody in Doc Martens, and they are hot shoes. Ian looked good, he always does, but I was watching him today because out of a suit (why the hell was he wearing one to breakfast last Saturday?) it seems less weird. He doesn't seem like a teacher, not that he _really_ is anyway. He just seems like a boy who I feel really comfortable around who's a few years older.

Jay is staring at me, still on the edge of his seat, with a quizzical look in his eyes. That is until mum puts the keys in the ignition and he sits back, buckling up. He probably hasn't got anything important to say.

Jay and I play Call Of Duty for a while. Mum's in the kitchen. I think that she doesn't really need to be so much as she's trying to give me some space. He shouts out when he gets killed, yelling about how it's the connection speed of the host's and not his fault. So we switch to zombies. He just stares at me as I go through the maze of menu screens.

"Shoot."

He jumps a little, presumably unaware of how conspicuous he is. I think his question from the car is back because he looks apprehensive. "You and er... that black-haired guy. The young one. At the school... What's going on?" He fumbles with his words.

"He's awesome. He sneaks me copies of the music room booking schedule. He's not a teacher or anything. His mum's the head, he kind of works there sometimes..." I explained, taking his question at face value.

"Yeah but are you like, friends or..." he trails off suggestively.

"Friends" I snap. Probably too soon because Jay smiles and grabs his controller back as the game starts.

There are several minutes of silence other than the choking and gasping sounds coming from the game before: "He's hot. Just saying." I throw a cushion at him and we make it to round two.

Round fourteen and I'm refusing to revive Jay whenever he's down because I am sulking like a toddler. The other players are probably annoyed at me but it doesn't matter because dad calls: "boys!" and we race off. I'm last, so have to go back and shut off the Playstation and TV. Little shit.

We sit down and eat straight away, everything's out and ready. I haven't had to help so I'm getting special treatment. It feels strange to me, being sat with my mum and brother and even dad like I'm a guest. I went up to my bedroom when I got home, my posters on the walls and wonky bed sheets are mirrored in my dorm. It's nice, feeling like I have that little bit of homeliness at school. I guess I really do like it there. Hopefully that'll last once it's more than just new and exciting.

I somehow get guilted into doing the washing up. I'm not annoyed but I still make a show of it. Why do people buy things that can't go in the dishwasher? Why do factories even make kitchenware that isn't dishwasher-able?

Jessica calls round, attack hugging me, washing up gloves and all. "Kinky."

I hug back and when she releases me, I dump the gloves, shouting at Jay to dry up and we lay on my bed. The same as that day nearly a month ago, but so different. I tell her about my conversation with my brother earlier and she laughs. "Brave."

"That's all you have to say?"

"I always kind of assumed you were bisexual." She states like it had occurred to bloody everyone. Barring me, it seems.

"You didn't think to tell me!" I say a little too loudly, noticing that I'm not denying it and _oh okay._

"Never occurred. But seriously Johnny Depp!"

"Oh you know he doesn't count. Not helping my case but could you do my roots please?"

She nods and I move around getting out all the awful stuff I put in my hair. "Jared Leto?"

"Same"

It goes on like that for a while, her just listing male celebrities and me making an excuse for every one. _I guess that settles that then._

She leaves as I shower the slightly burning bleach off. I think my mum must have said to keep it quick.

The rest of the afternoon is just relaxed. I talk to my family and realise that I have missed them more than I let on. Less my dad because his work means I see him less than the others usually. We watch a crap film and eat junk food and just laze around doing nothing. Mum wants to know all of my teachers and I tell her my favourite is Mrs. Carter, my English teacher. But music is probably the best lesson. She asks about my friends and I relive censored versions of stories from school.

I pack a few extra things for my return: some washing powder so I don't have to haul around my clothes when I see my parents; my practically dead iPod Nano; more high tops. All of my clothes are washed in a plastic bag too.

Mum says her goodbye as well as advising me, "hang those up around your room. They're still a bit moist." I give her a car-hug and laugh because, seriously, the word moist is pornographic.

Perhaps the most shocking thing comes when I go to hang my clothes up back in my dorm like I was told and find, tucked into one of the pockets, a packet of condoms. What the fuck?

A/N

I didn't like the last chapter, it didn't fit really. But I feel that it needs something to show how Sean actually feels about being alone, away from his family. He's making friends quickly, trying to plug that hole. This is more of a realisation chapter, again not exiting. I just want to assure you this is headed somewhere, I'm not sure exactly yet, but it has a vague direction: Smatkins. So er yeah GAY WARNING.

Reviews get my arse into gear. So thanks to everybody that's said anything.

Holy shit, Batman, the note's longer than the chapter.


	6. 6 So Take A Stab At My Broken Heart

"Ian!" I yelled, pounding my fist against the glass of the front door. "Ian! Answer the door!" I was growing in anger as I picked up a pebble and threw it against a bedroom window. I hoped it was his. "Ian fucking Watkins!" I screamed one last time before sliding down onto the porch steps and pulling my knees up to my chest.

Even in my anger, I was careful to allow enough room for the tiny ball of fur that was snuggled against me, shivering furiously. I was hyperaware of his presence there, as I sat in the drizzle on the porch. Are you a boy, I almost asked the kitten, but stopped myself.

I look up at the grey sky. Why isn't he here, I think, panicking. I need him now. This kitten needs him too.

"Anything you need. Even if it's stupid." He'd said as he watched me strum something I couldn't quite remember. We were in the music room, it had been just me until he walked in and politely didn't notice what a hash I was making of tuning. He just picked up an acoustic off the wall, tweaked the pegs by ear and held it out to swap. Those had been his parting words as he left to do something more important than unnecessary supervision.

Liar.

I'm bitter and cold and I should be in class right now but it's only RE. I'm pathetic, sat in the rain waiting outside of the empty house. He's not coming and why should he. I'm of no importance and he doesn't even know I'm here. I almost don't feel the (extremely manly) tear falling down my cheek – I'm that cold. Fucking winter. I sniff again and blink the liquid filling up my eyes, rubbing my sleeve across it and then my runny nose. Gross. "I hate everything" I whisper in a melodramatic display of emotion.

Mew. Yes, quite. Squeaky kitten mews make everything better.

I've been there for coming up to an hour when I hear footsteps down the gravel. I looked up, hopefully to see Ian striding up to the front door promising warmth and help. No, postman. He's staring at me, probably wondering why I'm sat there freezing my tits off during school hours. But you know what? Screw him; he must have done the same thing a couple of times to wind up with that job. I flip him off and he shakes his head in lost hope for the next generation.

Another set of feet disturbs the driveway and I turn my attention upward once more. "That was rude," Ian scolds as I take it upon myself to teach him what that really means using only my gaze.

"What are you doing Sean?" he asks, jokes aside for once when he notices my foul mood. What was his first clue?

"Let me in and I'll explain"

Ian silently pulls the keys from his leather jacket, unlocks the front door and holds it open while I get inside the building. He swings it shut, the clicking of the latch impossibly loud in the tense silence. Then he leads me up the staircase to his apartment. I briefly watch his butt as he climbs but it feels wrong when he doesn't know. He unlocks it, pockets the keys and walks into the hallway. I nervously follow, shutting the door and taking my shoes off because they're wet and I don't want to mess up his carpet or something. He's gone while I'm focussed downwards. If it weren't for the sound of the kettle boiling I wouldn't know where he was. Not that it wouldn't take me long to search the flat, but I hate being alone in other peoples' houses.

"Tea?" he asks, back to me as I enter the kitchen. I shake my head before remembering he can't see me and answer properly.

He just makes his cup of tea, ignoring me and somehow it's like all the anger I had earlier has been collected and stacked up against me. He's barely said a word but I fear I'll be the complete opposite when he finally asks me. Milk is added, the tea bag discarded and a sip is taken to ensure the beverage is satisfactory, before he sighs and launches his attack,

"I don't know what you think you're doing here. It's the middle of the day, you're supposed to be at school, or is that not important? You're going to that school as a second chance, don't throw it away. What you going to do, just bunk off and fuck around with something that means a lot to me? Right in front of my face?!

"Or didn't you think about it like that, just thought you could do whatever you felt like. Hmm?"

"I-"

"-Or didn't you think at all?" he interrupts, "You have to work harder than everyone, Sean. Prove yourself, you-!"

His voice crescendos into silence when I carefully unzip my hoodie, revealing the tiny kitten looking startled and rather sorry for itself.

"I didn't know what to do. I found them on the edge of the field at break. Either a car or some despicable person did this." I stop, hating the painful edge in my voice that makes it sound like I'm going to cry.

"How warm is she?" he asks, leadership skills kicking in. That's why I came here.

"Not very, we were outside for a while." I answer, the wobble fading out.

He runs off, to one of the three rooms visible off the lounge-diner. Ian's room, Leesa's, bathroom? He rushes back, arms full of blankets and a dark towel. He gently wraps it around the kitten, treating all of it as if it were as fragile as eggshells, not just the obviously broken leg. It was a beautiful thing to watch, like the uncle too scared to hold his baby niece while standing. He then holds out the smallest fleece blanket to me so I can surround their body.

He looks on, concerned as I try my best to warm it with my body heat, difficult as I'm shivering myself. He notices my convulsions or chattering teeth, offering me a hot shower. I gladly oblige, disappearing through the middle door when he gestures to it.

The water feels so good against my goose bumped skin. I sigh, thinking about how much nicer a home shower is from the block ones at school. And more private. I would totally have a wank right now if it weren't for the boy in the lounge just outside the door. Tonight maybe, in the privacy of my dorm it would be acceptable but not here, not now.

I washed my hair as well, it was matted and gross and Ian definitely owned straighteners.

The room was filling with steam now as I reluctantly turned the dial into the off position and hoped that the water hadn't been hot enough for chill blanes. That's when I realised the only clothes I had were in a sopping wet pile in the corner of the room. Crap. I wrapped the towel around my waste and braced myself for the cold air.

Ian looked straight up at me, eyes trailing from my face, down my chest to the towel slipping lower on my hips. I grab at it to hold it in place. I'm not sure whose face is redder as he makes eye contact. "Erm..can I borrow something?" I ask in a small voice, clicking my wrist nervously.

"Most stuff should fit. Left" he says too quickly, referring to the only door that hadn't been used.

I shuffle through the doorway in my towel-skirt. Well, that was awkward.

Ian's room is awesome, I realise upon looking around. His walls are a dark grey with silhouettes running across the largest wall. There's a wall-mounted monitor with computer, laptop and pen pot stacked on the left of the massive desk below, the rest of the surface is taken up with an A3 portfolio. I flick through it, wondering if this is too nosy. It's mostly album art with the name 'public disturbance' incorporated somewhere. I flick back the open page and search for clothes.

When the first drawer I open is full of surprisingly colourful boxers and socks, I shut it quickly. What's weirder, borrowing pants or going commando in borrowed jeans. I decide it's the latter and open it again, taking out the smallest looking pair. Who folds their pants? OCD.

I then find and plug in the hairdryer because my fringe is already starting to curl. I don't hear Ian shout, "Sean, you're a genius," from the other room. Until I emerge in his skinny-jeans, low and baggy without a belt showing off his boxers which he is polite enough not to mention and a hoodie. There's a shoe box in the leather sofa, lined with an electric blanket, containing the kitten in a fresh blanket. "She's asleep." He informs me in a hushed tone and holds up a washing basket containing the damp, cat-y towel and blanket. I take the hint and fetch my wet clothes.

Ian goes off, presumably to put the washing machine on and I lay down on the sofa, snuggling into the soft fabric of my borrowed hoodie and hugging the box to myself, one hand absently stroking an exposed paw. That's how I fall asleep.

I'm vaguely aware of music somewhere... no, not music... a phone ringing? I'm stirring just to that level where I can hear things, but they don't make sense yet. A man's voice is talking and I drift then awake every time he stops or starts talking. Then I'm pretty sure I can feel breath and somebody softly kissing my cheek. 'Mum?' I think as I drift back into proper sleep.


End file.
